To live in peace
by Grummel
Summary: What happens when an orc wants to escape the eternal "kill or be killed" destiny of his race? - Setup may remind of Unseen Academicals, though I read that book only after starting this story. There will however be no football in it.
1. War is over

_Many thanks to Virtuella for comments and improving my language  
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* * *

_**War is over**_  
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Beleg had participated in the war, although his mother had insisted that he was too young. Due to his lack of experience the officers had mostly kept him in the back and so he had survived without winning much honour and uninjured too.

Although his family lived in the eastern parts of Ithilien, close to the mountains, he had not met a single orc since then. If he had his way it could stay like that for the rest of his live. His older brother Turin(1) had had a much bigger share in the battles and was already regarded an experienced fighter.

When they were ambushed, his brother had killed the first orc before Beleg realised what was happening. A few moments later he noticed with a mixture of pride and disgust that he had indeed killed an orc himself before he was blacked out by a heavy club.

(1) Their father wanted them to become famous warriors. Happy endings were considered subordinate.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he awoke was an orc looking down on him. He tried to roll aside to get out of reach but a stabbing pain in his head forced him to bent over and empty his stomach. When he was done with that he wondered whether getting killed would be a good way to get rid of his pain.

"Do not move so quickly, you will only hurt yourself."

Slowly, very slowly he turned his head. Even slower his woozy mind accepted what his senses told him: An orc was telling him not to hurt himself.

While the orc washed away the puke, Beleg looked around. He was kneeling on a fur blanket in what seemed to be a natural cave. So far as he could see there was nobody but himself and the orc in the cave.

"Here is water, you better drink something!"

His first impulse was to reject it, since he remembered having heard that orcs liked to use poisons. But after a moment it occurred to him that this orc could have killed him effortlessly, had that been his intention. So he took the water skin and since he actually felt quite thirsty, drank until his stomach told him he had to stop. Then he fell back on the blanket.

Suddenly he remembered what he was missing ever since he awoke: his brother! Where was he? Should he ask the orc? No, he might have accepted its water, but that does not mean he was willing to give away any information that might be abused.

Soon he blacked out again and unconsciousness temporarily relieved him of both his worries and his pain.

* * *

When he awoke again, the sun had set and an almost full moon shed soft light into the cave. His head still hurt terribly, but his mind was clearer. He noticed now that his head was bandaged. He vaguely remembered that something had hit his head during the fight. The effect reminded him of the whiplash he once had as a kid after he fell of a tree. This was a lot worse, but his opponent had tried to kill him, so he could still consider himself lucky. Or not, depending on the plans this orc had with him. Beleg wondered whether that one had taken him out.

He succeeded to raise himself into a sitting position and started to inspect the vicinity: The cave was now completely empty except for him and a small bundle lying in a corner that he could not identify in the weak light.

Where was he, he wondered, and where was Turin? When they had been ambushed, they had been almost half way between their aunt's village and their own. He did not know the way. Before he had always taken the long road around the hills. His brother had patrolled the hills with the rangers and had told him that three years after the war the short way through the hills should be safe, safe enough for two armed men for sure, and it were high time for Beleg to get familiar with it.

The entrance of the cave was overgrown with bushes, he noticed, the cave must be well hidden from the outside. The mere steepness of the rock around the entrance however told him that it was likely deeper in the mountains than the he had ever been.

Where was his brother, he thought again. He must be searching for him. He must, he screamed mentally, as if sheer desperation could summon him.

* * *

The next morning he was woken by a delicious smell and he saw the orc working with a pot placed on a small fireplace.

"Where is Turin?" The words came out before he even started to think.

"The black sword? Died long long ago, didn't he?"

The answer baffled Beleg so much that he could only gawp at the orc.

"You ask about your companion? He is dead too."

Beleg continued to gawp. When his mother had told him about the death of his father, she had taken so much time to get to the point, that he almost knew the truth before it was spoken. The direct statement of the orc worked the other way round: After it was spoken, the truth slowly crawled into his mind. When it finally arrived and confirmed his worst fear, the shock even overruled his headache. He sank back and started to cry before he could stop it.

"He can not be dead! I don't believe you. Why should I believe an orc anyway?" Despite his claim of disbelieve, tears were rolling down his cheeks. After a while his crying ebbed away into a sobbing and he felt ashamed for letting himself go in front of a stranger. When he was in control of his own mind again, he started to ponder on whether he actually should believe the news or not.

"Get up, you need to eat. Yesterday you puked out everything. You have to eat to recover."

"You just told me that my brother is dead and now you want me to break the fast with you as if nothing had happened?" Beleg replied angrily.

"Turin was your brother?"

Beleg concluded that he currently had no way check the truth of what the orc was telling him, but almost a whole day had passed since the ambush and his brother hadn't found him so far, so it may well be true. In any case he had to hear more about it.

"Yes he is. Or was..." he said with a sigh. "How did it happen and why am I still alive?"

"You eat, I tell. Starving won't help anyone"

Against his will the orc's concise sentences and practical attitude raised a quick smile on Beleg's face. So he slowly stood up, took a mouthful of water and threw a critical look at the pot. Its content looked and smelled like a stew his mother could have cooked for lunch. A terrible suspicion aroused in him:

"It is not my brother, is it?"

"No!"

Another claim he could believe or not, Beleg thought. The orc surely was right in one point: his stomach surely felt as if he were starving. With an uncanny feeling he began to eat.

"Your brother was a good fighter, he saved your live. He killed all attackers, but he was deadly wounded. I watched the fight. When it was over, only you were alive. I carried you here and bandaged your wounded head."

"But why did you do that?" Beleg replied. "I mean: Why did you bandage my wound instead of killing me? I thought all orcs are evil."

"That word, evil, can you explain it?"

"You don't know it?"

"I know it. The Corsairs used it a lot. But what does it really mean? I do understand braveness and cowardliness, friend and enemy, but what is evil?"

"All I ever heard about orcs was them killing people," Beleg said without really thinking, while in the back of his still aching head his own voice told him that this hardly qualified as a definition.

"Can men be evil?"

"Corsairs are pretty evil too, I think"

"So enemies are evil, that's it? Can men from Gondor be evil too?"

Now Beleg had run out of quick answers and really started to ponder on the topic. That neighbour, who always picked on the children came to his mind. He might call him evil, but surely would not put him on a level with orcs. Then of course vileness indeed depended on the point of view. The Corsairs must have sworn and cursed a lot when Thorongil had burned their fleet.

"I am afraid, I can not really give you a definition of that word. But whether orcs are evil or just enemies, why did you help me, after I had been attacked by your fellows?"

"War is over!"


	2. You're welcome

**You're welcome!**

Beleg looked at the orc, waiting for further explanations, but the orc seemed not inclined to give any. He had always considered orcs to be mindless brutes, but this one seemed to be quite the opposite. It occurred to him that the orc was playing a game of reasoning with him and so far he had done pretty badly.

Indeed the war was over and Gondor had won, which meant that no organised resistance hindered it to drive off or kill any remaining orcs - that was how he had seen that matter so far. What did it mean to an orc, he wondered. Did they even have a place they could go home to? Was it hate or something similar, or was it simply a lack of alternatives that kept the orcs fighting?

Beleg was not a philosopher, but he considered himself well able to define his position. No matter what his opponent was about, he'd be damned if the orc should consider him to be mindless. The orc... Yes, he thought, that was the right way to change the course.

"You already know my brother's name. Mine is Beleg, would you mind telling me yours?"

As he had hoped, the orc looked slightly taken aback. After a few moments he simply said: "Gurnak"

"So, Gurnak, what do you plan to do with me when I have recovered?"

"I don't know," Gurnak replied and after a short pause added: "Nothing."

"Your fellows did not care about the war being over when they attacked my brother and me. Why did you?"

"Men from Gondor still kill orcs too. I think there must be another way."

So that was it? He had heard that the king had negotiated a peace treaty with the Corsairs and that the conditions were quite generous. He suspected that the Corsairs might think differently, but at least they were not killed anymore. What would he and Turin have done, had an orc approached them asking for peace, he asked himself. He could not even answer the question for himself.

"Gurnak, what ever made you do what you did, I have to say thank you! Thank you for not killing me, thank you for looking after my wounds and thank you as well for sharing your food with me," declared Beleg, lifting his spoon to emphasise the last thank.

The short speech had an unexpected result: Gurnak turned his head away and did not move or speak for quite a while. When Gurnak finally turned back, it seemed to Beleg that Gurnak's eyes were slightly watery.

"You are welcome!" Gurnak repeated with an almost ceremonial tone. Then he added: "Wait!" and left the cave.

When he came back, he carried Beleg's sword.

"Good blade. Take it," he said and presented it to Beleg.

Beleg hesitated for a moment and asked: "Don't you fear I might kill you with it?"

Gurnak instinctively drew back the sword and replied: "Would you do that?"

"Killing you after you saved my live and voluntarily returned my sword? That would be absolutely ignoble!"

"Ignoble? What does that mean?"

"Doing that I would disgrace myself, I would completely lose my honour and would feel ashamed about it for the rest of my live." In the back of his mind Beleg realised that it was not far from what the historical Turin had done to the historical Beleg.

Once more Gurnak presented the sword to Beleg, who took it this time. Then Gurnak declared:

"An orc would do it!"

"What?" Beleg was so surprised by the remark, that he was not even sure whether he meant 'what would an orc do' or 'would an orc really do that'.

"I think, I know what you mean with honour. Orcs do not have such a concept. An enemy orc would kill me after me giving back the sword."

"Now that sounds evil!" Beleg proclaimed spontaneously. "So you would not trust another orc, but you did trust me?"

"I observed men for years. I think I understand them now a bit. Men are different. You would not kill me."

"So you gave the sword back to me, risking your live, to test your assumption?"

"Yes."

There was a long silence. Beleg looked at the orc, then at his sword, and finally continued to eat. Gurnak in the mean time stared at Beleg as if trying to read the human's mind.

After a few minutes Beleg spoke again: "Men are not all the same. It pains me to say, but you'd better be careful to trust you live on the honour of a man you do not know. In Gondor, many claim that Corsairs or Easterlings have no honour, though I sometimes wonder whether this is really true for all of them. Even Numenoran history has seen its traitors."

Gurnak only continued to stare for a while. Then all of a sudden he smiled. Slowly he reached out an empty hand towards Beleg. "I like you! Do you want to be my friend?"

Belegs hand stopped in mid air, stew dripping from the spoon. "To befriend an orc?" he said, more to himself. His face turned into a grimace of disgust. "But he saved my live..." He forced his face to a more neutral expression and looked into the eyes of the orc for a while. Finally he too smiled, took Gurnak's hand and shook it with great earnestness.

The orc continued: "I like you, because you speak true, even when truth is not pleasant. What you call honour seems more common. Most Corsairs certainly have it, I can assure you. Truth speakers are found less often, at least among the men I met so far. What is the word for that?"

"It is called honesty. And it is indeed not ubiquitous, not in Gondor neither."

"Orcs also have a word for it. It means fool."

"Let me guess: You have been a fool every now and then?"

"Yes!"

Both man and orc started to laugh.


	3. Corpses

**Corpses**

"Gurnak, what did you do to my brother?"

"What do you mean? Nothing, he was killed by others."

"I mean: What did you do with his dead body? Did you just let him lie where he died?"

"Ah, that! I piled a few stones on him, because I saw men doing that. I hope you can explain to me what that is good for."

"We don't want the deceased to be eaten by wild animals, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, maybe we also don't want the corpse to be seen rotting. But in fact I guess most of us do it because it is what always had been done. Can you give an explanation for all habits of yours?"

Gurnak pondered for a moment, then smiled and replied "I guess I can not."

"Can I see Turin's grave?"

"It is not too far, but the way is not easy. How well have you recovered?"

Beleg stood up quickly and collapsed almost immediately. Gurnak jumped to help, but Beleg managed to sit down himself. After taking a deep breath, Beleg stood up again, this time more slowly and carefully and managed to walk a few steps.

"Come outside, we'll walk a few steps uphill. If you have no problem doing that, we go to see your brother."

* * *

After passing the bushes at the cave entrance Beleg was momentarily dazzled by the light. When it was over, he saw that Gurnak was now carrying a bow and a very familiar sword.

"You took his sword," he proclaimed with some anger.

"Why not?"

Why not? Somehow Beleg had fancied his brother to be buried with his sword like he had heard it in stories about ancient heroes. Now that he thought about it once more from an adult perspective he wondered why people who knew they had to face more calamities, usually in form of orcs, wasted any good equipment. Orcs probably never wasted anything like that, or at least he could hardly blame Gurnak for not doing it.

"Oh, forget it. Let's get going!"

Gurnak pointed to a kind of path that was going uphill rather steeply.

"You go first, so I can catch you if you fall."

Steep as it was, Beleg's muscles had no problem with the path. However, he had to concentrate on his steps a lot more than he expected.

"That's no good, you walk like you are drunk. We should wait until tomorrow."

"No, damn it! I will go to that grave even if I have to crawl."

"Hmm, maybe with some help from me it should be possible. And I know I can carry you up again, if I have to. So down then," Gurnak said and turned on his heals.

Beleg also turned and realised for the first time how far above the plain they actually were. What a feat of Gurnak to carry him up that far.

The path that lead down towards the grave was generally less steep then the one Gurnak had used to try Belegs abilities. Beleg's head slowly cleared while he was walking, so Gurnak had to steady him only a few times. When Beleg thought they must be near the path he and his brother had taken, Gurnak suddenly stopped dead and indicated Beleg to be silent. Listening, he soon heard a distant snarl.

"Warg," whispered Gurnak, "stay here and be quiet."

"But I can help!"

"You may be able to crawl, but you are not in a condition to fight. I can handle a warg. Pray to Melkor that it is only one."

While Beleg wondered who that Melkor might be, Gurnak took the bow from his back and left. Soon Beleg heard an arrow being released, followed by a surprised yelp and angry growling. Another arrow flew, then clawed feet could be heard to come nearer with big steps. Now Beleg's curiosity took over and he raised his head to see. A huge wolf-like monstrosity was advancing towards Gurnak, who stood on a man high cliff, sword in hand. One of the arrows stuck in a front limb, nevertheless the beast seemingly jumped up the cliff with ease. Upon landing, however, the hurt limb buckled and Gurnak used that moment to drive the sword into the warg's neck. The beast collapsed almost instantly and fell of the cliff.

Soon after, Beleg saw the place where his brother had been killed. Five orc corpses lay around, two of which had injuries that had not been dealt by a sword.

"The warg was eating them?"

"Orc, humans, other wargs, they eat whatever they can get their teeth into."

Beleg gulped.

"Now I am even more glad you made a grave for Turin. Don't you bury your own dead, Gurnak?"

"When we have wargs with us, we let them eat, spares the trouble of getting them other food. Otherwise we only hide the fallen when we think they might attract unwanted attention."

No respect for the dead; what a society, Beleg thought. But then a few days ago he wouldn't even have thought about orcs having respect for anything. He turned his attention to his brother's grave. It looked crude, but stable. It must have occupied Gurnak for quite some time to get that many stones all alone. The warg could have dug into it most probably, but simply preferred the uncovered orc bodies.

Beleg stood before the grave in silent reverence for some minutes, then he picked up a few small stones and put them on top.

"It is not good enough?"

"It is good, but every friend or comrade should add something to it. My mother and sister will do the same once I brought them here." Then after a startled pause: "My family! They don't even know yet. I have to go back to tell them!"

"Beleg, whereever your village might be, it is likely too far for you to walk today. Let's go back to the cave, that way I can help you."

"Can't you help me to get to home? Oh well, maybe you can not, they might shoot you before I can stop them. What about other orcs or wargs here?"

"I haven't met any for a long time before those five came. The warg might have belonged to them as well, but went wild when they could not feed it any more and after that just followed them."

"Back to the cave then. Can we at least remove those dead orcs here, they will start to smell horribly in a few days, won't they?"

"Your brother won't smell any better, but if you insist on it, let's roll them down a bit."

Without further ado Gurnak took a corpse by its armpits and prompted Beleg to take the feet. Beleg hesitated momentarily, but since it was his idea after all, he got over his disgust and grabbed them. Together they threw the orcs down the slope.


	4. Tales

**Tales**

"Who is that Melkor, you asked me to pray to?"

Beleg and Gurnak were back in the cave, sitting around a small fire on which the rest of the stew was warming up.

"He is the creator of everything. They told us he likes orcs and despises elves. You have never heard about him?"

"We call the creator Ilúvatar. It is said that he likes all his creatures, although orcs were never mentioned to be amongst them."

"Someone must have created us as well, or we would not be there, would we?"

"Of course. When I asked the story teller who had created orcs, he said he did not know."

"I also wondered why the creator should despise elves, when he had created them himself, but asking that question would not have been a good idea."

"I guess your story teller was not a friendly old man."

"She was an orc of course," Gurnak said with a grin. Then he switched the topic:

"Beleg, what did you do during the war? Did you kill many orcs?"

"No. Yesterday was the first time I actually met one face to face. I was too young and had hardly finished my training when Minas Tirith was besieged, so I was only charged with helper tasks like making sure the bowmen did no run out of arrows. I will never forget those days though, or rather this one long night. The white city was illuminated by thousands of lamps, but they could not keep the darkness at bay. It felt as if it could creep even into the buildings. The only light that really pierced the darkness was this white wizard, glowing by his own magic. Then, as if the darkness was not bad enough, there were those terrible shrieks that went right into your heart and soul. Even with two doors between me and the outside, they filled my with dread. And I could see on the faces of my comrades that they felt the same."

"Oh yes, the nazgul were a nasty lot. They were on our side of course, but we feared them more than the cold steel of Gondor. More than anything in fact, except the burning eye."

"The burning eye"?

"The Lord, the commander of this war. We orcs always saw his eye, wrapped in flames, watching us. I've never seen him face to face, nor do I know anybody who has. But we all saw his eye, wherever we were. Ignoring his will was impossible."

"That must have been the dark lord we called Sauron."

"Yes, I've heard that name as well. I can not blame you for considering the nazgul's shrieks the most terrible sound you ever heard, but believe me, the wail of the dying eye was worse. When it was over, many orcs killed themselves or went crazy and died later, not caring for eating, drinking or in fact anything at all."

"So he is really dead this time? Our historians say that he has been defeated and killed once before, but came back."

"Who knows, it sounded like a death cry for sure. But I have no idea how anyone can come back after being killed anyway."

"They also say it took him some thousand years to come back, so we should be safe in our lifetimes at least."

There was a pause before the orc continued:

"This city of yours. From the outside it looked rather impressive, illuminated as it was in all this darkness around it. Then it was just the enemy's stronghold, something I wanted to destroy. But I've often seen it again in my memory. I would really like to see it in full daylight one day."

"The night ended before the battle was over, did you not see it then?"

"It was quite damaged by then, burning in many places. And with the sun came the horsemen. After that there was no time for idle observations. I was lucky to reach these mountains at all, not many orcs survived that day."

Again there was a pause, in which Beleg pondered on how glad he had to be that this specific orc did survive the battle and how strange an idea this would have sounded to him until yesterday. When his thoughts went further, he found a thing that puzzled him.

"Gurnak: You have spoken about Corsairs several times so far, but they never made it to the Pelennor Fields. What dealings did you have with them and when?"

"Pelennor Fields?"

"The plain of east of Minas Tirith where the battle took place."

"Ah! When the eye sent an ambassador to the Corsairs, that ambassador was a man, because the Corsairs would never have accepted an orc. He did never fully trust any men however. It took me a while to find out the reason for this: they felt not observed by him, so his human allies never were as safely on his side as we orcs were. So the ambassador was accompanied by a personalguard of orcs."

"So you were one of these guards and your task was to secure the ambassador's loyalty as well as his life?"

"Yes, this describes it well, I think."

"When have you been there?"

"I came there shortly after their fleet had been destroyed by fire and stayed for about 30 years."

"The burning of the fleet? That happened long before I was born, didn't it? How old are you, Gurnak?"

"Maybe 80, my tribe did not count the years. So you do have heard about this fire. It was done by some spies of Gondor, wasn't it?"

"That is what I have been told: It was a raid commanded by a mysterious hero named Thorongil. He looked like a Numenoran, though nobody in Gondor seemed to knew anything about him. After the war I have heard a rumour that it was in fact the same man that has now been crowned King Elessar. So the Corsairs did not even know it was a raid?"

"I am quite sure some did know, but those probably thought it would be better for the public opinion to declare it an accident. 'War is the father of all lies!' Guess who said that?"

"An orcish philosopher?"

Gurnak burst into roaring laughter.

"I have never heard of any orcish philosopher and even if there were one, he would not create such a saying. For most orcs truth is so volatile, they need no reason to lie."

"But who said it then?"

"An old easterling name Geza, scribe to another ambassador in Umbar. He was probably the nearest thing to a friend I had before."

"You never had an orcish friend?"

"There is no such thing as friendship in an orcish society. We can be comrades in a battle, although even that concept does not mean exactly what it does to you I guess. It took me several years in Umbar to understand what friendship really means."

Gurnak stirred the pot once more, then filled a dish and handed it to Beleg.

"You don't eat anything?"

"I have to eat out of the pot, I have only that one bowl."

"Oh."

For a while they ate in silence, then Beleg took up the conversation again:

"So you have lived for eight decades already. Does that mean you are old for an orc?"

"I am old for an orc, at least in these days; but I am not old the way Geza was, who has most likely died of old age by now. I have never heard of an orc that became weaker over the years, though some become mentally tired. Most however simple got killed before reaching an age like mine. Your king by the way, if he really commanded that raid, he must be quite old for a man by now."

"Numenorans live longer than other men, especially those of royal blood. In the olden days, I have been told, some kings lived for several centuries. What do you mean by 'becoming mentally tired'?"

"They lose the will to fight, which means they are getting killed before long. Some even lose the will to live and commit suicide or attack their chieftain, which is more or less the same. When I was young, there was no eye that told us what to do. I have heard that nazguls controlled some bands of orc, but my tribe was free. Free to be bullied by our own chieftain, but at least he was with us in flesh and blood. He wouldn't have told us to attack big cities of west-men or to band with trolls and men."

"So Sauron did not only watch you, but could command you directly?"

"He did not give specific commands, at least not to me. In fact the first thing I felt was simply an urge to move. I was just a boy then, but apparently the whole tribe felt it and so we moved. Some days later we reached the mountains bordering Mordor where I saw a nazgul for the first time. He talked to our chieftain and we moved to a camp with other orcs. Then, by and by, this feeling of being watched grew and we knew we were no longer free. Being free again after so many years felt strange at first, as if something that should be there was missing. I begin to like it now."

"And there is no chieftain to bully you neither. But what will you do now? Do you plan to stay in these mountains for ever?"

"I have not made specific plans so far. Having found a friend was more than I ever hoped to find. But you have to return to your people. By the way: Do I stink? Men in Umbar always complained we do, at least those that dared to complain."

"Now that you ask, there is no denying it, yes you do," Beleg replied and demonstratively pinched his nostrils.

Gurnak's face dropped and he growled angrily.

"Hey! If my mother would be here, she would most likely say I stink as well and tell me to have a bath immediately."

"Oh yeah, bathing. Normal orcs never do, but in Umbar we had to, as part of the agreement with the ambassador. I actually liked it, but here in Mordor it is hard to find a bath house." With that the orc stormed out of the cave.

"So much for him wanting to hear the truth," Beleg said to himself. "Well, maybe I shouldn't have taken it humorously," he added in thought.

He considered going after his new friend, but decided against. If Gurnak really understood friendship, he will come back.


	5. The Rangers

**The Rangers**

"Beleg, wake up!"

Beleg had already been half awake when Gurnak entered the cave. Being called, he opened his eyes and noticed that the orc looked rather agitated.

"Good morning, Gurnak. What is the matter?"

"Rangers are coming!"

"To the cave?"

"No, not yet at least. The walk their usual path and they haven't found me up here so far. But they will surely find the grave. And when they start searching, who knows what they might find. Some orcs told wondrous stories about their ability to read tracks."

"So I'd better go to meet them, I guess. Is there time for a breakfast at the least?"

"Wait," Gurnak simply said, then vanished in the back of the cave.

Beleg looked after him. He had noticed previously that there was a passage in the back leading to furthers rooms. He had however considered it to be too narrow for him to pass, even more for the bulkier figure of Gurnak. Before long, the orc came back, carrying strips of something Beleg could not identify.

"No time for cooking, take some of these."

"What is it?"

"Mostly dried rabbit."

Beleg started to chew on one of the strips. The tasted quite spicy and slightly familiar. He supposed they had been one of the ingredients of yesterday's stew. They also were more stringy than anything he had ever eaten. Looking at the rest of the strips he remarked:

"You must have better teeth than I do. They feel like I can chew all day on even one of them."

"Cut them in smaller pieces. And chew on them on your way."

With that Gurnak shoved Beleg out of the cave.

* * *

Beleg looked around, but could no spot any Rangers or in fact any living being except a falcon circling the air in search of prey. So he directed his steps towards the grave.

He had almost reached it, when he suddenly heard a sharp voice:

"Stop! Don't move! What are you doing here on the edge of Mordor?"

Beleg looked for the speaker, which turned out to be a young ranger, who had an arrow readied and pointing at Beleg's chest.

"Hey, aren't you Turin's little brother?" came a voice from the other side.

"Yes, I am," Beleg said, staring at the tip of the arrow.

"Oh come on, Athos, put the bow aside. This boy will not turn into a warg when you look the other way. Is Turin here as well? And why is your head bandaged?"

The young ranger lowered the bow and Beleg turned to see the other one. He was older and Beleg remembered having seen him before. He even remembered his name, which by chance was rather similar to his own.

"Ah, Belegrin! You have found the cairn, haven't you?"

Belegrin nodded.

"That is Turin's." Although he had accepted the fact by now, he had to fight the tears once more as he said it aloud.

"Oh! So you two fought five orcs and a warg? Or are there more people involved?"

"You forgot the most important question, Bel," came the voice of a third rangers from below. "Is there anything dangerous left, which we should deal with before hearing your story."

"I stand corrected, Lug. So that question first: Is there anything?"

"No, no danger," Beleg replied .

"Then come down here," added the person just named Lug, "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"Some bread would be nice, I haven't had any for two days now."

The third ranger was waiting on a part of the path where there was enough place for four men to stand comfortably. He handed Beleg a slice of bread and some cheese. His age was hard to guess, though Beleg thought that he might well be even older then Belegrin.

"Two days? Now I am really eager to hear your story," he said, "but first of all let me see your head. Does it hurt when I press here? Or here? Does the wound feel hot or feverish?"

"No"

"That's good for now, then we leave it like it is until you get to your village."

Then he addressed Belegrin:

"Bel, since you seem to know him, would you properly introduce us all, please?"

"Of course. This is Beleg, a young man of the village Eastwood. And this are my comrades Lugomir and Athos. Lug is one of the famous northern rangers who came together with the king."

"Now, since you started making compliments: Bel was of the first who joined the king when he started organising a company of rangers here in the south," Lugomir added.

"And me," Athos remarked with a sigh, "I am just a young apprentice ranger."

"Well, well, we all were young one day," Lugomir added, patting Athos back, "But now its our young friend's turn to speak. Pray tell what had happened here in the last two days."

"What I tell you may seem hard to believe, at least I would have found it hard to believe before it happened to me. Two days ago Turin and I wanted to walk from Fir Vale back to Eastwood and Turin suggested to take the short way..."

While he told the story, Beleg observed the rangers. Lugomir listened with calm concentration. Athos looked quite fascinated when he told about Gurnak. Belegrin on the other hand became more and more discomposed. Lugomir signalled him not to disrupt the story.

"...and so here I am, wearing a bandage made by an orc and eating orcish food."

For a moment all remained silent, then Belegrin burst out:

"You became an orc-friend? It is not your story I find hard to believe, but your behaviour. Of course now you expect us to let this one live. So in the future we have to ask every orc whether he happened to be your friend and hope it does not cut our throat as a reply?"

At first Beleg was aghast, but then he forced himself to calm down and find a proper reply.

"You have not met Gurnak yet, although he has lived up there since the end of the war. So he seems to know how to avoid you, as long as you do not actively search for him. Can it not stay that way?"

"No, it can not. An orc that has learned to avoid us is a hazard that needs to be exterminated!"

"But Gurnak is no danger to anyone!"

"That is what you think, because you trust it. But it is an orc, you can not trust these creatures." Then after a small pause, while looking at his comrades: "What do you say, am I the only one to see the peril?"

"An orc that can see us while we can not see him is something I do not like any better than you," replied Lugomir. "But an orc that helps a man like that is something I have never heard of. It may have its reasons, sound or unsound, but it is definitely something new. Something we should investigate. Would you bring us to him?"

"So you can talk to him, before you exterminate him? With all due respect, sir, no!"

That reply earned Beleg an angry stare from Belegrin, but Lugomir only nodded.

"Yes, of course. He is your friend now, so you have to protect him. Do we really have to kill him? If his motives are sound indeed, there should be another way. Maybe we can agree on an truce: Do you think he will come down to meet us here, if we promise that he may return to his cave without being followed, if he wishes so?"

"I guess he will."

"But will we promise that?" Belegrin intervened.

"Why not," Athos joined the discussion, "if he does return, the situation will be no different from what it is now, except that we have seen him. I can not see any disadvantage in this."

"Oh, for Eru's sake, so if it has to be, I do promise."

"The rest of you as well?" Beleg inquired, looking at Lugomir and Athos. The two simply nodded.

"I'll be back in an hour then, with or without him."

* * *

"And I thought it would be another boring patrol," Lugomir said when Beleg had left. "Bel, you did know this Turin?"

"Yes. After the war he sometimes joined us on the patrols and helped to secure the region when orc bands were still more common. Sometimes he was a bit too careless however, which, I think, is why he was never officially asked to join us."

"Careless? Yes, it seems so. But he did fight for the West, so let us pay our last respects to him."


	6. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

Beleg approached the cave, but Gurnak was nowhere to be seen. When he had almost reached it, however, his friend addressed him from somewhere above:

"You're back already?"

"They want to meet you!"

"Did they promise not to attack me?"

"The promised to let you go back when you want to, and not to follow you to find your cave, either"

"I hope they did not follow you instead."

For a moment Beleg was too surprised, he really had not thought about that possibility. While Gurnak came down to meet him, however, he realised there was a reason for that:

"Honour binds you to follow the spirit of a promise, not just the plain words. I can hardly imagine them to abuse such a loophole."

"Well, I would have seen it anyway, if they had. How have they reacted to your story?"

"One of them criticised me heavily for trusting you. You have to be careful with him. The others seem to be cautious, but also quite curious."

"So the real trouble begins. But as you said: I can not hide forever. Nor do I want to. So let's face it now. Two of them being curious is probably as good a start as I can get."

* * *

"So here he is, my friend Gurnak. And these are the rangers Lugomir, Belegrin and Athos."

While introducing the rangers, Beleg observed them. Lugomir looked totally relaxed, but his eyes were fixed on Gurnak, seemingly scanning every last detail. Athos tried to look relaxed too, but did not succeed as well as his elder comrade. Belegrin did not even try to look relaxed. Instead he stood there glaring at Gurnak, his right hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

For a while nobody said anything, all waiting for the other side to start talking, then Lugomir broke the silence:

"Before this becomes an endless staring contest: You have tended this young man here, after he has been wounded by other orcs. Can you explain to us why you did that?"

"I wanted to get in touch with men. When I saw him injured and unconscious, I thought that helping him might be a good start. So I brought him to my cave. When I talked to him, I found that I actually liked him more than I expected, so I offered him friendship, which he accepted."

"Yes, Beleg already told us about that. But why did you want to get in touch with a man in the first place?"

Gurnak took a deep breath.

"Well, I think I have to start a bit earlier. When the war ended, I was alone. I was one of the few orcs that survived the attack on the White City. I barely reached these mountains and a few days later Sauron died. Now I was free and I had to decide what to do. Some Uruks chose to make one glorious final raid on Gondor to kill a few more men."

Belegrin visibly fought to control himself as Gurnak mentioned the raids.

"They knew they were going to die and I did not want to die nor did I see any glory in killing. Others started establishing new tribes to live within Mordor. Mordor is an unfriendly land and dangerous too, now that no Sauron tells the trolls not to eat orcs. Hunting trolls would have been an option, but an orcish tribe is not a nice place to live. Either you become chief by killing your rivals or you accept being bullied around by whoever else succeeds in doing it. I liked neither of these choices, so I decided to stay on my own. I knew a cave up in these mountains, where I hid myself from orc and man alike for more than two years now. This gave me a lot of time to think."

Lugomir raised an eyebrow. Beleg supposed he had his share of solitude as a ranger in the wild north.

"During my years in Sauron's service I had seen a lot of men and learned about the way you live. There is a thing you call _respect_, that is completely missing in an orcish society. You can earn respect for being a fighter, but also for being an artist or a craftsman. As an orc you are either a fighter or you are nothing and if you are a strong, others will follow you grudgingly, that is the best you can get. The more I thought about it, the more I longed to live like you. Of course I knew it might be risky, but I decided to get in contact with you, somehow. All I needed was a start and when I saw Beleg injured and in need of help, I knew that was the chance I had been looking for."

Gurnak had hardly finished, when Belegrin countered angrily:

"So now you want to live amongst men? Spy us out for the next dark lord to send hordes of your kind against us? Or is there one already, who invented that story to place you as a spy for him? I don't believe in your peaceful motives, not a bit of them!"

"Do you think," Gurnak replied with a booming voice, "that orcs turn into stone when they have no bloody master to abuse them for his own bloody plans? You killed Sauron and I have to bloody well say thank you for that. I hope you got rid of these Nazgul too, because even orcs did not like them. Orcs have a will of their own and don't like to be controlled by sorcery, witchcraft or whatever you might call the damned powers they possessed."

"You orcs have killed my father, you have killed my wife and my only son. I do not believe in such a thing as a peaceful orc and I will not stand by while you plan more atrocities."

The mentioning of his personal losses nearly overwhelmed Belegrin, everyone could see that he was fighting to keep his composure. Lugomir put an arm on his shoulder.

"All the orcs I have ever known are now dead, as far as I know," Gurnak replied more calmly than before. "I do not blame the men of Gondor for doing that, I have to blame Sauron for starting this war. But the war is over! Can't you image that even an orc is sick of fighting and wants to live in peace?"

For a while all remained silent, then Athos said:

"Easterlings, Haradrim, Corsairs, they all have killed Gondorians and we have killed many of them. Nevertheless the king has made peace with them. As much as I bewail your losses and my own, too, if we let anger and grief rule us, it will only lead to revenge and more grief. Can't there be peace even for orcs?"

"The idea is intriguing," Lugomir replied, "but do you really think we can make peace with Mordor like we did with our human neighbours?"

"Well, so far I haven't thought that orcs even knew the word peace, let alone its meaning. Apparently they do. Yes, it might be a trick, but it also might be the start of something entirely new. Myself, I am a fighter, not a diplomat, making peace is not my duty. I definitely think, however, that we should not reject this request lightly. We should consult Lord Faramir on that matter."

"The king was a ranger for long years and Lord Faramir himself bravely fought in the war as well. A good diplomat has to be a fighter, I think. And you might make a good diplomat one day," Lugomir said, smiling at Athos. "That we have to inform the steward is obvious, but it does not answer the question what to do with Gurnak now. Maybe he can ease the decision for us though."

Addressing the orc he added, "We promised that you can go back to your cave. If I understand you correctly, however, this is not your prime intention. We have to bring Beleg back to Eastwood and then go on to Emyn Arnen to inform the steward. If you want, you can join us and bring forth your request before him yourself. You have to give up your weapons and although we will not treat you as a prisoner, effectively you will be one until the steward's decision. What he will decide, I can not tell you of course, but I can assure you that Lord Faramir is a just and peace-loving man."

"My weapons I will give up readily. That I have to plead to the lord of this land, I did expect. But will _you_ promise me safe passage to your lord?" Gurnak asked, looking at Belegrin.

Belegrin just glared at the orc. All the others now looked at him expectantly. Finally he grumbled between clenched teeth:

"Curse you for making me say that, but yes, against my own judgement I will escort you to the steward. I will not fall as low as to hurt a defenceless prisoner, or I would not be worth being called a ranger any more."

Gurnak held out his hand towards him.

"I will not shake your dirty hand, my word is all you will ever get and more than you deserve!"

"Gurnak," Lugomir intervened, "I do not blame you for what you did, because I guess you do not comprehend what you were doing. There is a lot for you to learn however, if you really want to live peacefully amongst men one day. Words can be cruel and forcing that promise from him was neither friendly nor necessary. I knew that Belegrin wouldn't have hurt you, even without a promise, but I let it pass for your reassurance. Now it is enough, do not push him any further!"

"Oh, I am sorry," Gurnak replied, looking ill at ease. "Can I get a few things from the cave before we get going?"

"Sure, but leave your weapons here, will you?"

"Yes. Here, that sword belongs to your family anyway," he said, handing Turin's sword to Beleg.

"Well, in fact it belongs to the army of Gondor, I think, but I can carry it for the moment," Beleg replied.

Then Gurnak dropped bow, quiver and a knife, before going back to his cave for a last time.


	7. Eastwood

**Eastwood**

Gurnak returned faster than Beleg had expected, carrying a water skin and a small bundle wrapped in his fur blanket. Lugomir wanted to examine the bundle and after some hesitation Gurnak opened it. It contained some strips of dried meat, some pouches filled with herbs and to every ones surprise, a small wooden figurine of an orc. Beleg thought he saw his friend blush when it was shown around, but it was hard to tell under the orc's dark skin. Since nothing looked like a weapon, they finally hit the road.

The group was lead by Beleg, followed by Gurnak and Athos, now carrying two bows and quivers. Lugomir and Belegrin kept some distance, apparently because Lugomir wanted to talk privately with his sulky comrade. After a while Athos handed the extra bow back to Gurnak, saying that a bow without arrows was not much of a weapon and carrying two bows was stupid, since he could use neither without the other getting in the way.

Three hours later they approached Eastwood. The had hardly left the eponymous forest when the first farmers spotted them. As usual they greeted the rangers friendly, but those with keener eyes soon noticed something quite unusual. Before long the group was accompanied by several people, although they kept some distance. There was some surprised murmuring and Beleg thought he heard the words _orc_, _free_ and _bow_ several times.

Eastwood had been encircled by a small palisade in the early years of the war. Although the village itself had been burned by orcs, the palisade had been left untouched, though slightly scorched. Probably the orcish leaders had considered it useful to themselves. The village had been rebuilt within and there had been some discussion about whether to keep it or not. Some said it should be torn down since it had not seen a single enemy since the end of the war. Others wanted to maintain it, since you never know tomorrow. An old woman strongly supported to do one or the other, but not keep a rotting bunch of sticks that gives them a false sense of security. In the end the men of the village couldn't agree on anything, apart from the fact that a crone should not teach them in matters of war. So the palisade looked rather shabby now, but still the village could only be entered by two gates, the northern one the group now approached.

When Beleg saw it now, he had a flashback of the warg jumping up the cliff to attack his orcish friend.

"I wonder if the wall would stop a warg. What do you think, Gurnak?"

"Without a rider one could jump over it, I guess. As long as there are those sheep over there or anything else it could hunt on the outside, it wouldn't though."

The conversation raised some murmuring among the spectators. One boy suddenly darted towards the gate and vanished within, where he started to shout for someone.

Some thirty yards before the gate, Lugomir signalled the group to stop and said:

"Bel, since you know the family, I suggest that you accompany Beleg and inform his parents."

"His fathers is dead. Wasn't he killed by orcs too, Beleg?"

"No, he was killed by Haradrim."

"Oh, well, let's go to bring the sad news to your mother and your head to the healer."

"She will already know half the story; that boy was my cousin."

So Beleg entered the village followed by the ranger. A woman's voice could be heard shouting his name, than everything calmed down again.

* * *

"There goes my friend," Gurnak remarked, "will they let him go again?"

"Beleg is old enough to be a free man," Lugomir replied, "neither his mother nor anyone else can order him to stay in Eastwood. He may think that his mother needs him more now than anyone else, but if his friendship is worth anything at all, he will not let you go without a farewell."

Since nothing happened for a while, some farmers walked into the village for news while most went back to their work.

"An orc seems to be the perfect chaperon," Athos remarked, "not even the children come near. I can't fail to notice that some observe us through holes in the fence."

"Your eyes are getting keener, very well. Why do you think that only children observe us?"

"Not only children perhaps, but at least some. An adult would not peek through a hole half a pace of the ground, that would look ridiculous from the inside."

"Well observed," Lugomir laughed, "in this case however I would have simply taken it for granted that most of the village kids are now either swarming around Beleg or looking for peep holes in the palisade. And Bel should be quite busy answering questions by now."

* * *

About two hours later, Beleg returned wearing a clean new bandage. He was followed by the ranger, a middle aged women and a rather young one. A crowd of villagers followed the group. The girl almost hid herself behind Beleg, but scanned the scene vigorously. The older woman had the swollen eyes of someone how has shed tears recently. She advanced with slow, awkward steps towards Gurnak, stopped two paces in front of him and addressed him stiffly:

"I am Beleg's mother. He told me you have saved his live. I have thank you! Is there anything, I can do for you?"

"Your gratitude is enough, it is a rare honour for an orc to get even that much."

Instead of turning, however, the woman now looked at Gurnak as if she hadn't really seen him until now. While scanning him all over, her face went from indifferent through surprised to satisfied.

"Oh, yes, I have something that would be useful to you. Just wait a moment, will you?"

Without waiting for an answer or caring for the puzzled looks all around, she vanished inside the village again. Some minutes later she returned with a linen bag.

"These are garments of my late husband, Beleg's father. I made most of them myself and I still know his size well enough to say that you have his figure. Your arms are a bit too long, but apart from that they should fit you well. That way you don't have to stand before the steward in rags."

"Rags you call them," Gurnak burst out, "I worked on them for months. Keep that man-clothing to yourself, if you don't want to insult me."

Terrified by the shouting orc, the woman stepped back, mumbling a hardly intelligible excuse. Now however the girl came forward, stood right in front of the orc and looked him in the eyes from below with a gaze that would have brought many a young man to his knees.

"Oh mighty orc, do you even know what a needle is?"

Several astonished gasps could be heard all around the place. Gurnak was neither young nor man and the crookedness of his needs had nothing to do with the female in front of him, but the gaze combined with the earnest sounding question replaced his anger with confusion. He shook his head vehemently, thought for a moment, than he replied with a calm and serious voice:

"I do know, but the forges of Mordor produce them not."

The girl only hesitated for an instant before continuing:

"You are not in Mordor any more. If you want to live in Gondor, you should not frown upon a good needle work."

Again Gurnak pondered on her words for a moment. Finally a big smile entered his face and he replied:

"I will heed your advice. Thank you for teaching me!"

Now standing right in front of an orc that, by smiling, exposed all of his hideous denture, temporarily broke the girl's steadfastness. She took a step backward, but quickly regained her composure, stepped forward and shook Gurnak's right hand with both of hers.

"Thank you for saving my brother."

Now she finally went back to her mother and brother.

"Míriel, you nearly made my heart stop," her mother complained, "you are so much your father's girl, he would have liked that."

"Gurnak is my friend," Beleg taunted her, "but you hardly know him for five minutes and already you have him bewitched."

"She's a witch," Gurnak intervened sombrely.

"Oh no, that is just a way to say she used her charm on you. I hope there will be chance for you to meet her again. I think you will like her, just don't expect to ever win an argument."

His sister responded to the last sentence by poking her tongue at him.

Gurnak now went to their mother, bowed and said:

"I am sorry for disregarding your work. If you have not changed your mind, I will esteem it as a most precious possession."

The woman seemed too confused now to reply, but she handed the bag to Gurnak ere she went back into the safety of the village, followed by her more vivacious daughter.

"I would like to join you, so I can assist his case in front of the steward," Beleg now said, addressing the rangers, "but my mother insists that I stay at home at least over night and the healer suggested the same. Can you wait until tomorrow?"

"Well," Lugomir replied, "we won't reach the White Hall(1)today and we can make it all in one day, if we start in the morning. It all depends upon you, young man. Can you walk all day? Or is there a chance to organise a horse?"

"There are a few horses in Eastwood, but I don't think that I can borrow one during harvest time. I have next to no experience in riding anyway and from what I remember, I prefer to walk. I might be able to do it, but do we have to get there by morrow evening?"

Lugomir gave him a stout clap on the back.

"No, of course we can camp another night and we will do it before you collapse from exhaustions. But you have to walk all the way, unless you want Gurnak to carry you again."

* * *

"I would strongly prefer to enter the White Hall on my own feet! Well, thank you for waiting, I will join you right after breakfast."

After Beleg had left, an elder man approached the rangers.

"Normally I would readily offer you shelter under my roof and be honoured if you accept. But despite what we have heard, most people would not feel comfortable, knowing an orc within their village."

He cast a sideways glance at Gurnak to see how he reacted to this statement. Gurnak looked him right into the eyes, but showed no further reaction.

"I have a barn a mile south of the village," the man continued, "which you can use for the night, if you want."

"I thank you for your offer, master," Lugomir replied, the last word spoken as a question.

"Danathor"

"I thank you, master Danathor and I do understand dilemma. We will simply stay were we are. Rest assured that we are used to sleep out in the open."

"Thank you as well, master."

"Lugomir."

"Thank you for your understanding. I will sent my maid with a supper, so you receive at least some hospitality from Eastwood."

_(1) I couldn't find any name for Faramir's residence in the books, so I invented one._

* * *

Beleg's family was sitting at supper. His mother ate nothing at all and Míriel not much more. Beleg was quite hungry, but the sad mood damped his appetite too.

"Do you really have to leave again? I just lost one son, can't you stay for a while at least," his mother asked.

"Yes, I have to. Going to the White Hall together with a group of rangers shouldn't be too dangerous, but if the steward bans Gurnak, I might never see him again."

"And if he does, will you follow him into Mordor as well?"

"I strongly hope he will not, but no, I won't go to live in Mordor and I doubt that Gurnak would even want me to. I'll be back in a week at the latest, I promise!"

"Men! You're father said almost the same thing, when I last saw him alive," she sighed.

"Why did he ask if I were a witch?" Míriel asked with a smirk.

Beleg wondered whether his sister would like to be one.

"He has had enough of the nazguls. You remember that their leader was also called the Witch King?"

"Take good care of him!"

"Míriel!" his mother called out.

"Mom, I have lost a brother too, but mourning will not bring him back to life. You said father would have liked what I did. I think Turin would have liked it, too."

* * *

The sun had set and it was drizzling. Lugomir had the first watch, Athos and Belegrin were sleeping in a tent the rangers had with them. It was made for two, but even if it had been bigger, Gurnak would have known better than to ask whether he could join them. He sat in the limited shelter of a tree, wrapped in his blanket.

"Is it difficult to make such a tent?" he asked out of the blue.

"What? Oh, not really. I've made more than one in my younger years, though they were not as good as this one. We did not have such fancy material as bamboo in the north. Why do you ask?"

"I wonder why we orcs never ever made one."

"You have no tents at all?"

"In Mordor we had some big ones, Sauron kept his army well organised. But not orcs left to their own devices. Nor do they built houses or any kind of shelter. When I think back to my tribal youth, there were a lot of things we did not have and I know that other tribes lived the same. But why? Over the generations orcs must have captured a lot of tents. But considering the way the members of my race usually behave, I would guess they destroyed them, calling them man or dwarf made crap. But what is so great about sleeping damp and cold?"


	8. Lord Faramir

**Lord Faramir**

"Gurnak, look what I made for you," Beleg said, presenting another figurine that vaguely resembled himself.

It was early dawn. Athos was already packing the tent while the others were still busy with breakfast.

"You made that for me? That means you made it yesterday, in only one evening?"

"Yes. I work as a carpenter, shaping wood is my craft"

"Oh. Well, thank you! I hope it won't be the only thing that reminds me of you after I have met this steward of yours."

* * *

A long day's walk later the group had reached the White Hall. Beleg was quite tired in the end, but had stubbornly insisted to keep going.

Belegrin volunteered to inform the steward. Lugomir directed Beleg and Gurnak to the rangers' headquarters. He organised a room for the two, then showed them a bathroom.

"Can Gurnak use the tub as well?" Beleg asked.

"He can and he should before meeting the steward," Lugomir replied, then turning to Gurnak, "no offence meant, but you reek like you haven't had a bath for months, which is likely true as well."

"Make it some decades, than you are closer to the truth."

Now, for the first time, Beleg saw Lugomir perplexed.

"Spare me the details, will you. I leave you now. Gurnak, you should stay on this corridor. Beleg, you can walk the house freely. If you have a problem, ask for me."

* * *

Later two wet figures rummaged in the contents of a bag.

"Which ones should I try?"

"How should I know?"

"I've never worn human clothing. What would you wear for such an important audience?"

"Try this and these trousers. That was what father wore in such cases, I think."

Gurnak's slipped into the appointed pieces and stretched himself to check the fit.

"From behind you almost look like my father. Mother was right, they fit you well."

"They do indeed," Gurnak said as he turned towards Beleg.

"Of course your face destroys the image instantly," Beleg added with a grin.

* * *

The next morning someone knocked on the door. Gurnak, who had slept on the floor as he was used to, rose immediately and looked around warily, before he remembered where he was.

"Who is it?" Beleg asked, suppressing a yawn.

"Athos. The steward wants to see you at half past seven, you'd better get up."

"Okay, we'll be ready in a few minutes."

"Good, I will wait for you at the stairs."

Soon they followed Athos to a big room on the ground floor, where about a dozen rangers were having breakfast. When Gurnak entered the room, all conversation stopped and everyone stared at the him.

"Have you never seen an orc?" Beleg ask provokingly.

"More than you, my boy," the ranger sitting next to the door replied, "and killed most of them, too. We surely never shared breakfast with one though."

"But come in, fear not," another ranger added, "the steward wants to see you, so you are our guest today, whether we like it or not. In fact those who wanted to avoid him, like comrade Belegrin, have left already."

They sat down at an empty table and Beleg scanned the faces in the room. A few he remembered having seen in Eastwood.

"I can't see Lugomir. Did he want to avoid Gurnak, too?" he asked Athos.

"No, he is currently briefing Lord Faramir."

"Ah, of course."

* * *

The White Hall was the biggest room Beleg had ever seen and the brightest as well. The morning sun shone in through the eastern windows, illuminating spots on the western wall and on the marble floor. At first the room alone held Beleg's attention and Gurnak seemed likewise fascinated.

"That is Lady Éowyn," Athos indicated to Gurnak, "she has slain the Witch King."

Now Beleg looked at the people in the room. In the centre was Lord Faramir, clad in green, sitting an a throne-like wooden chair. To his right sat a woman with long blonde hair, a toddler on her lap. Beleg knew her story of course, as did anyone in Gondor.

On either wall were three armed men in white cloaks. A seventh, wearing officer's insignia, stood to the left of the steward. Both Lugomir and Belegrin were standing on the right wall, together with a lot of other rangers. Some other people lingered on the left.

"Gurnak, the orc, my lord,", the officer now proclaimed.

"That's a strange announcement, my friend" the steward commented, "would you call yourself Beregond, the man?"

Beregond slightly blushed, but Faramir did not press the matter. Instead he addressed the announced:

"Gurnak, I have heard wondrous stories about you. You claim to have lived in the mountains under the nose of my rangers for two years. You have helped an injured young man. You singlehandedly killed a warg to protect him. My word, this almost sounds like one of the heroic deeds I imagined myself to be doing when I was a boy! I wonder, Gurnak, what it is that you wish to be doing with your life. When I was young, I wanted to become a ranger. So, what about you?"

"You're asking if I want to be a ranger?"

Faramir looked momentarily taken aback; he had obviously not expected his words to be taken this way. But he rallied and replied with a smile,

"Well, do you?"

The question caused some murmuring amongst the rangers, but with one look and a tiny gesture, Faramir silenced them. Beleg was impressed. As steward Lord Faramir was second in Gondor only to the King, a man whose orders would be followed, he thought, but he did not even have to give loud orders, because he had the natural authority of a true leader.

"No, that is definitely not what I want to be," Gurnak replied after some pondering.

"That sounds as if you strongly oppose the idea."

"The purpose of a ranger is to kill. I don't want to do kill any more, neither man nor orc."

"The purpose of a ranger is to protect, though killing may be necessary. Most people in Gondor live in peace, now that the war is over. They can do so only because some still fight."

"In Gondor a man can chose whether he wants to be a fighter or not. I was never asked, but I am sick of fighting."

"Orcs are our enemies," Belegrin now intervened with a surprisingly calm voice, "if you want to live in Gondor, you have to change your loyalty. If you don't want to kill orcs, how should we be sure about that?"

Beleg expected the steward to stop him, but he did not. Instead Lady Éowyn, who had seemed to be entirely preoccupied with the boy on her lap, looked up and addressed the ranger.

"I have to disagree, Master Belegrin. Saruman, Sauron, the Witch King, all those dark lords never cared for the life of an orc. If Gurnak had been sent as a spy by whomever, as you suspect, he would be most willing to kill a few other orcs to prove his trustworthiness. I am not a friend of orcs for sure and I can not say that I trust this one, but in my eyes his persistence is an argument for him, not against."

Everyone looked at her now. The boy, who suddenly felt to be in the centre of attention, pointed a finger at Gurnak and said: "Ohk?"

"You say that you are sick of fighting, but you have fought and killed, haven't you?" Faramir now took over again, "Would you tell us what you did during the war?"

"I have killed men and I have killed orcs, I would no longer be alive if I had not. As an orc you learn to fight before you learn to speak. During the war I remained in Mordor until my troop was ordered to join the siege of the White City. I wounded and possible killed a few men in the heat of the battle, I surely killed one of those horse men in the end, because he tried to stop me when I was leaving the battle field."

Beleg noticed a twitch on Lady Éowyn's face when Gurnak mentioned her kinsmen. Gurnak, speaking to the steward, did not seem to notice.

"I did not have much choice, it was me or him. Faced with the same situation today I would act no different. But I have wondered, more than once, what kind of person he had been. I did not know him, nor did he know me, we fought only because we were on different sides in this war. I do not want to seek such a situation again, although I do understand the necessity."

"I have been told that you claim to know men well," Faramir continued the questioning, "that you understand the meaning of respect and prefer our ways to that of your own kind. Is this correct and if so, how did you acquire that knowledge?"

"That is correct. I lived in Umbar for many years, as a bodyguard for Sauron's ambassador. My movement was restricted by my duties and only few people ever spoke with me, but I learned a lot over the years and I was fascinated, because it was so different from what I was used to. I bemoaned the day I was ordered back to Mordor."

"You learnt respect from the slaveholding Corsairs? That sounds strange, to say the least. Have you heard that there are no slaves in Gondor?"

"I have now," Gurnak replied slowly, then fell silent. Everyone in the room was looking at him expectantly.

"You compare the Corsairs to yourself, I compared them to my own kind," he finally replied. "I guess that slaves do not receive much respect anywhere. If you have none, that makes Gondor an even better place. Compared to an orcish tribe or to the nazgul regime in Mordor, Umbar was nevertheless strikingly different. To Sauron and his lieutenants all orcs where hardly more than slaves. And an orc that has power over another by rank or sheer physical superiority treats its subordinates no different."

Now Faramir fell silent for a while, too, before he continued.

"Well then, let's talk about something different. I am facing a dilemma and I would like to hear what you think about it: For three years now we have guarded the borders of Mordor. Some day we should clear it out for good, but Gondor has suffered gravely during the war, as have our allies and our opponents too. Nobody wants to start such a campaign now. The longer we wait however, the stronger the orcs still living there will get."

"You are guarding the borders of Mordor? So you have not conquered the Núrnen, the fertile region in the south, as the rumours were saying?"

"In fact we have. It only makes the guard more difficult though, since there is no natural boarder between that area and the rest of Mordor."

"It might be good that you have done it nevertheless, good for you at least. The rest of Mordor is quite barren, it cannot sustain a big army. Also, despite Men saying that orcs multiply like rats, an orcling does not mature much faster than a human child. No matter when you will start this campaign, however, it will be hard to finish. There are still a lot of trolls and there are countless caves in which orcs can hide when you try to purge them. For the years to come I guess that the task will get easier rather than more difficult, unless Mordor gets a new leader with the power to control the trolls as well, like one of the Nazguls, if any of them survived."

"I have been told that none of them can have survived, luckily. You sound like you pondered on that question already."

"I have indeed. I had a lot of time for contemplation."

"Another question: Do you think that there are other orcs that feel like you?"

Now that question seemed to get Gurnak by surprise.

"I don't think so," he replied without much confidence after a pause.

"So during all this contemplation you never thought about that question? If I were in your situation and I would get what you want, I would surely ask myself: Are there others in Mordor suffering, because they do not want to fight either, but lack the courage or the opportunity to go the way that I went."

Gurnak's shoulders sank and he bowed his head.

"You are a man," he replied with a humble voice, "it seems there is still a lot more I have to learn about what that means. There are in fact orcs that seem fed up with or at least tired of fighting. They usually kill themselves in some way or the other. Whether they do so because they cannot imagine any other way to live at all or only see no way to actually live that other way, I don't know. Maybe I should go back to Mordor and try to answer that question first."

"That is what you should do, but not all alone. You would most likely be killed before you can return with the answer. Also I'd like to have some witnesses of your attempt anyway. I even consider joining that venture myself. What do you think about that?"

"That question I cannot answer in a minute. I need some time to consider it."

"Understandably. Tell me, when you have come to a conclusion."

Faramir exchanged a few whispered words with Beregond, then bowed towards his son. Seeing his father looking at him, he pointed at Gurnak once more.

"Ohk?"

"Yes, that's what he is, my boy."

* * *

"You are now an honoured guest of the steward," Beregond told Gurnak. "He seems to trust you and I trust in his judgement. Do not disappoint him!" Then turning to Beleg, "You are his guest as well of course. Let me show you your new room."


	9. Planning

**Planning**

"This went quite well, didn't it?" Beleg commented when they were alone in their new room.

"I am not so sure. I don't know if I can do what the steward expects me to do. He's right, I think, that going alone would be dangerous. The strongest orcs, those that are on top, will like my ideas the least. But then going with a troop of Gondorian soldiers won't be a good start either. Other orcs don't have my experience. They only know men, Gondorians especially, as enemies."

"What would you have done, if some orc had come along, a long time ago, before your stay in Umbar, and suggested a peaceful way of living? What would have convinced you back then? That is the way you have to think about it."

"Sounds good, but it is not that easy. I have to make it clear that I'm not a traitor or a Gondorian slave. You might have no slaves, but they don't know that. And I think I have to give them an aim, something they can do instead of fighting. Which is difficult, since they have never learnt anything else."

"I understand. You lived on your own for two years, but that won't be an option for many. Now you came to us. Maybe you should ask the steward what he can offer those that follow you?"

"May be."

"You should not think that all men are like the steward, by the way."

"How do you mean that?"

"When he told you to look for other orcs like yourself, you said you still have to learn what it means to be a man. Unlike you, we are taught to care for others. Nevertheless we think of ourselves first all too often. I've heard that Lord Faramir often risked his life to save some of his men during the war, though other soldiers did that too. To care even for enemies however, that is something only few men will ever do."

For a while both pondered silently.

"You want to be an artist, don't you?" Beleg finally continued.

"I would like to be one, yes. But I realised that my skills are quite poor, compared to those of men."

"Skills can be learned. But what I want to point out is this: A new community needs craftsmen, or craft orcs, first."

* * *

"You do believe him, don't you?" Éowyn asked her husband.

"Unless my judgement fails me totally, he is as honest as anyone I ever met. And though orcs are infamous for their cruelty, they are not known for sophisticated scheming. I see more good than bad that can arise out of this, I only hope I did not press him too hard."

"Oh Faramir, you are incredible. The only burden you never care for is your own. Do you think there are more orcs like him?"

"Like him? I don't think so. He is probably as special as you are, dear Éowyn. But others might follow him. Many things start with an idea and a person that stands for it."

"Like Déoric and his plan to make peace with the Dunlendings?" (1)

"Good example, yes. Dunlendings of course are men. There are so many things about orcs we do not know. Orcs are considered the epitome of cruelty. In our stories orcs are always said to be brutal and primitive. Gurnak does not fit into this picture at all, but what he tells of the orcish society seems to confirm the stories. What he said about the Corsairs was quite interesting. But then they have children, too, and they do raise them. How can they do that?"

"Maybe we should invite him to join us for supper," Éowyn suggested after a pause. "There is something I'd like to ask him myself and he might talk a lot more openly when he does not have to defend himself in front of all those rangers."

"Good idea, let's do that."

(1) See_ "Truth Be Told" by Virtuella_

* * *

Beregond guided the two guests into a small, but comfortably furnished living room. When they entered, a maid tried to lead the steward's son out into the next room, but he protested loudly and after consulting his mother, the maid allowed him to settle in a corner where he played with a wooden horse and some toy soldiers, every now and then throwing glances at his parents and their strange looking guest.

"Sit down and help yourself, this is not a formal banquet," Faramir told his guests, then addressing Beregond, "Please join us. I know you would complain for weeks if I send you out and I see no good reason to do so anyway."

For a while the company ate in silence until Éowyn began to talk.

"Gurnak, you might have heard it or you might not, but I am of the Rohirrim, the horse men as you called us. Would you tell me more about this last fight of yours in which you killed my kinsman?"

Gurnak looked up from his food with a startled look, unsure how to reply. Then he sighed and began to tell:

"I was trying to make it to the river. I wanted to avoid the ships, so I went south first. I had almost reached a place where I could cross the river, when a heard a single horse approaching me at high speed. I started to run and the rider probably considered me an easy prey. A glimpse back showed me that he was not wielding a lance, which made it a lot easier for me. At the last moment I turned, deflected his sabre and caught one of the horse's hind legs as it rode past. The horse stumbled and the rider jumped off nimbly."

Éowyn winced as he told about injuring the horse.

"He looked quite young, hardly older than Beleg. He attacked me with great fury but little skill. I guess fighting on his own feet was not what he had been trained for. Had he been wiser, he could have saved his live by running away, I surely wouldn't have followed him. But the way he acted left me with no other choice than to kill him."

"What did you do to the horse after you killed the rider?"

"Nothing, I turned to the river as soon as the fight was over."

"I am not surprised. But let me tell you that in Rohan we treat horses with great respect. If a horse can be saved, we will do whatever we can to save it. If it can not, we kill it to end its suffering. To hurt one of our horses is considered an offence equal to hurting one of us. It does not surprise me that the young man was angry."

"Oh," was Gurnak spontaneous reply, then after some thinking he added, "I do not know whether this horse was fatally wounded. To be honest I hardly regarded it, once the fight was over."

"With that you fit well into Gondor," Éowyn said with a wink to her husband.

"Nevertheless, if the young man could have done something for it, he should have backed away and let me escape."

"That is easily said with hindsight," Beregond now added, "for all that the young man knew, you might have cut a piece out of his horse to eat it. And most probably he was still in his battle frenzy, renewed by your attack on his horse, so he did not think too much when he attacked you."

"Good point. Orcs do eat horses, at least we have heard a lot of stories about that," Éowyn remarked, then asked with a serious voice, "Have _you_ ever eaten horse flesh?"

"I might have," Gurnak replied cautiously, "in Mordor nobody asked where the meat came from."

"In Harad they make salami out of horses that can no longer be ridden," Faramir came to his support.

"I know and I dislike them for doing that. Nevertheless I am aware that not all the world honours horses the way we do. Our stories however speak of orcs hunting horses to eat them or sometimes only to let them rot. What do you say about that?" Éowyn went on.

"I have never seen it, but honestly I would not be surprised if these stories were true," Gurnak replied, shifting in his chair nervously. "Orcs can be a nasty lot, I know them all too well. And then it even makes sense when thinking strategically. Orcs do not ride horses, so to us all horses 'can not be ridden'. Living horse are useless or worse, tools of the enemy."

"Can't we change the topic," Beleg now intervened desperately, "there is no doubt that orcs committed lots of horrible deeds, but Gurnak is not personally responsible for all of them, is he?"

"Ah, the friend comes to the rescue," Éowyn said, smiling at Beleg. "However, I am but testing him and so far he fares quite well. He will have to hear worse accusations when he actually stays in Gondor, believe me."

Meanwhile the steward looked at his son and that reminded him of another question:

"Well, now that this has been said, we may as well change the topic. What I would like to know: If orcs are so quarrelsome, how do you ever succeed in raising children? No matter how early you learn to fight, an orc baby is just as helpless as a human one, isn't it?"

"Of course they are. But orclings are the one thing even orcs consider sacred. And you will hardly find a fighter more ferocious than an orcish mother protecting her offspring."

"It is hard to imagine that orcs consider anything sacred," Beregond commented, "but I guess there would be no orcs any more, if they treated their children like they treat everything else."

"Can it be," Beleg began, then, looking at Gurnak, slowly and thoughtfully continued, "that this is what makes orcs what they are? That they care for nothing but themselves? If somebody would intentionally destroy a piece of furniture that I made, I would take it as a personal insult. Normal orcs do not create anything, but you are different, aren't you?"

"I know what you mean and yes, I would care, if somebody destroyed a creation of mine."

"Gurnak _is_ different from the average orc, that much we know already," Faramir concluded. "The question we should try to answer is whether he is the only one."

* * *

"Beregond told me you have a plan now? Tell me," said Faramir when he greeted Gurnak and Beleg the next morning.

They had been led into a private audience chamber, where the steward waited for them together with Lugomir and two army officers.

"I have an idea, that might work, but I have to ask for some favours. I thought that I have to give those orcs something to work towards," Gurnak started to explain. "And it must be something they can imagine. So my idea is to build a village, somewhere outside of Mordor, where we can live a simple live, but still one a lot better than how they live now. Contact with men should be little, at least at the beginning, to avoid trouble. And though we might appreciate some help, the village should be built by the orcs themselves, so they can take pride in the works of their own hands. Actually I plan to start with a couple of tents." His eyes switched to Lugomir for a moment. "And I want to build one myself to show them, before starting the campaign."

"So you want a place in Gondor, away from human settlements to avoid strive with your neighbours. The place should be subtly protected from all kinds of intruders, while voluntary teachers, surely including your friend here, will teach you how to build a village and how become members of the civilized people of Middle Earth. The request does not sound undue. But there is more, isn't it?"

"Yes. There are two more things: First I need a lot of leather for the tent. Yours are made of cloth. I've asked Beleg how cloth is made and it does not sound as if orcs can quickly learn how to make it. We know how to prepare leather for clothing or light armour, so that would be a better choice to start with. I could prepare the leather all by myself, starting with hunting the animals, but this will delay the whole matter. And I guess you would not like me to go hunting in your forests yet anyway."

"Leather should not be a problem. And the second thing?"

Gurnak shifted his feet, hesitating to speak on.

"I need a sword and arms," he finally said.

Everyone gazed at him with looks that ranged from surprised to shocked. Only the steward kept calm.

"That is a surprising request, after all that you told us," Faramir replied. "But you surely have a reason for it, haven't you?"

Gurnak sighed deeply, as if a load had been taken of his mind. "Of course. One reason is that if I go there unarmed, other orcs will not even listen to me, I suppose. They will consider me a Gondorian slave trying to save his miserable life by tricking them into submission. If you consider this idea unthinkable, you should keep in mind that they know even less about Gondor than you know about them. Then the discussions I have had, since I am here, helped me to understand myself better. What I am completely sick of, is the endless fights in an orcish society, fought because somebody wants to improve his position or more often for no apparent reason at all. Fighting to protect is something different. Still I do not want to roam the land in search of trouble, to protect people I don't even know. But do I understand the meaning of rangers better now. However when I build a village with my own hands, I will protect it like a mother protects her children. Other orcs might also adapt to that idea more easily than to sit around and rely on others to protect them."

"So you want to protect your village by yourself?"

"Well, some, as you called it, 'subtle protection' might still be necessary. We neither can nor want to fight the whole world. Especially we do not want to fight Gondorians who consider us a target for revenge."

"You speak as if that village exists already," Lugomir remarked, "have I missed something?"

Gurnak chuckled. "Oh, no, you haven't. It seems I have been slightly carried away by my own planning. When I find some orcs to join me, that might have to be discussed in more detail. But I need something to start with, something I can tell my would-be followers."

"I do understand your plans so far. Is there anything else?" Faramir inquired.

"No, that was all I have thought of so far."

"Well then, we will discuss your suggestions amongst ourselves. Meanwhile we will provide you with the material to make your tent."

* * *

"Gurnak, I would like to keep accompanying you, but I promised my mother to return soon," Beleg said when they were alone again.

"That is all right. I am really glad to have a friend like you. When I go back into Mordor however, I prefer you to be safe in Eastwood. Mordor is a place for fighters. I do not want to be one, but it is what I have learnt most thoroughly. When I return, you may teach me how to become a carpenter."


	10. Mordor

**Mordor**

"So this is the infamous Mordor. A depressing place indeed," one soldier commented.

"It is only a small campaign, they said. I hope I'll be retired when they start the big one," another replied.

"Stop complaining, you two, we're not here for a picnic!" their officer shouted.

Some paces ahead, the steward walked next to Gurnak.

"It is true, this is definitely not a place man would fight for," Faramir said to Gurnak, "if only I knew that the orcs would stay in here, I would leave it to them gladly."

"In fact it seems to me less bleak than I remember it," Gurnak replied. Then he suddenly stopped to pick up a small flower. Whilst walking he eyed it curiously.

"That is camomile, isn't it?" Faramir asked, "what is so interesting about it?"

"I have never seen any in this area before. It was not just a fancy, Mordor has changed since I have left it!"

A week after he had presented his plan, Gurnak now led the steward, a troop of fifty foot soldiers and twenty bowmen into Mordor. About a dozen rangers were with them as well, though most of the time they scouted and were not to be seen. They had not brought any horses, because Gurnak had told them that beyond the few paths that existed in that area, horses would be more of a burden than a help. Gurnak himself was equipped like a foot soldier, except that he did not wear a helmet, because he wanted his orcish face to be clearly visible. On his back he carried a crude, but functional tent that he had built.

A few minutes later a ranger approached them.

"We spotted some orcs, about the quarter of a league to the south-east. Three, apparently hunting."

"Lead the way, please," Faramir simply replied.

"I would like to say some words in the Black Speech. It will catch their attention more quickly then anything else," Gurnak explained to the steward, "Only: I am an orc and I am free. Well roughly that. Would you mind?"

"Roughly?" the steward inquired.

"There is no word for free in the Black Speech, so I will tell them I am my own chieftain."

"Won't they consider that a challenge to their chieftain?"

"Surely not more of a challenge than to lead a troop of Gondorian soldiers into his territory. It will only be a short introduction anyway. I will tell them in Westron, that I am here to talk, not to conquer. Their chieftain will come, because he will guess that otherwise some of his tribe might come to listen on their own and follow me. He might fear you, but the disgrace of losing his tribe would be a lot worse than to die fighting."

"Sounds sensible, do that," Faramir said, "How long do you think it will take them to bring their tribe?"

"Hard to tell, but not more than a day, I think."

"So you want us to stay here and wait for whomever for a whole day?" an officer intervened. "Wait for an army of orcs if the luck is against us."

"Even if this chieftain should be able to organise a small army, that will take him much more than a day," Gurnak replied, "I told you this land is barren and now that you are here you can see it with your own eyes, can't you?"

"Can't you just show your tent to the orcs that the rangers have found?" the officer asked.

"No! I don't expect all of them to follow me, most I guess will oppose the idea. If those three oppose it, they might not even deliver the message. And if they do deliver the message faithfully, those who consider accepting it might face a chieftain who would rather kill them than to let them go. And we would have to wait nevertheless. If the tribe comes here, however, we can protect the ones that want to leave."

"We will wait for a day if necessary," Faramir closed the matter.

* * *

"They haven't noticed us, but they heard you not too longer after we did," a ranger reported to the steward.

"We're not here to hide," Faramir replied. "Are they observing us?"

"Yes, they do," the ranger confirmed.

"So, it is your turn," the steward said towards Gurnak, "say what you have to say, but don't hurt our ears too badly with that ugly language, your fellows seem to hear well."

Gurnak stepped to the front where he could be seen well and with a loud and clear voice said a few words in the language of Mordor. Then he continued: "I am here to speak to you, to your whole tribe. I want to show you something and make you an offer. How long will it take you to bring them here?"

There a short and fervid discussion amongst the orcs, then two of them left and the third replied, "Those who want to listen will be here tomorrow morning."

* * *

Gurnak erected his tent about fifty paces off the main camp towards the watching orc and when the sun set, he went to sleep in it for the first time. The tribe must have marched over night, because he was hardly up again when a ranger guard informed him that the orcs were approaching. He bade the ranger to go back to the main camp, gulped down a hasty breakfast and waited for the things to come.

Minutes later the tribe came into sight, slightly over one hundred orcs. They were lead by a big orc who carried an enormous scimitar. He stopped when Gurnak was roughly in the middle between the tribe and the Gondorians.

"We have come to listen, so speak now, man-friend," the chieftain said.

* * *

"For as long we can remember, we have always fought and destroyed, we have suffered and died," Gurnak started. "Men were our enemies, except when the Eye allied us to some of them and even then they did not trust us and we did not trust them. When we were watched by the Eye, we slept in houses and tents, but where are they now? There is a better way to live! See this tent: I made it myself and you can learn to make one too, if you only want to. The leader of those men has offered us to live in a place outside Mordor. We can hunt in the forests and we can built whatever we want, they will not attack us, as long as we do not attack them any more."

There was some murmuring amongst the orcs, but the chieftain did not listen to it. Instead he walked towards Gurnak and his tent with purposeful strides. Gurnak looked back at the Gondorians and signalled them not to intervene. Right in front of Gurnak the chieftain stopped.

"You made the tent yourself? Melkor's bloody hammer, you look like an uruk, but you are worse than a snaga, you became a stupid white-skin yourself," the Chieftain shouted. "We are orcs, destroyers we are and that's how it should be. What ever is made, is worth to be broken, until nothing is made again. Havoc is our element!"

With the last words he drew his sword and so did Gurnak almost in the same instant. Instead of attacking however, the chieftain stepped aside and with few quick slashes he cut down the tent. Then he looked at Gurnak, grunted, spat out and finally attacked.

The chieftain hacked and slashed with fury and brutal strength. Gurnak had to step backwards, but he blocked all attacks seemingly with ease. Realising that he could not break through Gurnak's defence as expected, the chieftain backed away and waited for Gurnak to attack. Gurnak however simply stood and waited. This seemed to further enrage the chieftain, so he attacked again, even wilder than before. Once more the big crude orcish blade was blocked by the good Gondorian steel and after some more clashes it broke, leaving the chieftain with hardly more than the hilt. As if he had expected that, the chieftain leaped out of the range of Gurnak's sword. Again Gurnak only waited.

"You have won and now you don't even want to kill me, tent maker?" the chieftain teased him. "Whatever you are, you are not an orc. May you burn in the fires of Utumno!"

Having spoken these last words, he used what remained of his blade to cut his own throat.

* * *

Gurnak beheld the dead orc for a while, then he turned toward the rest of the tribe.

"Your chief is dead, you are free now," he shouted, "free to decide: you may choose a new chief in the usual way and go back to your old live. Or you may follow me and live without this endless fighting. It is a choice for every one of you."

There was only silence for a while, then an orc who looked as if he might become the next chieftain, stepped to the front.

"You will not change what we are, tent maker," he replied, spitting out the last word as if it was a horrible insult. "Go back with you white-skin chums. They have won the war and some day they might kill us all, but then we will die as uruks, not as crafting snagas."

The speaker turned and began to walk away. One after the other the rest of the tribe followed his example.

"Isn't there anyone who is tired of this life of yours?" Gurnak shouted pleadingly. "Anyone who wants to live in peace?"

One of the few remaining orcs slowly walked towards Gurnak. The rest stopped to watch.

"I am tired of my life," the orc said while he kept walking, "but there is only one way to find relief."

Suddenly he drew a dagger, stabbed it into his own chest, walked two more steps and collapsed.

The orcs cheered as if they had seen a glorious display of valour and now all of them walked away.

* * *

Gurnak walked back to the Gondorians with his head hanging.

"I have failed," he said, when he faced the steward, "I have failed completely!"

"You tried your best, nobody can do more than that," Faramir replied calmly. "It is not your fault that they stubbornly insisted that their way to live is the only way possible for orcs. 'Whatever you are, you are not an orc.' On the bright side you can say that this chief gave you a leave from your own kind. And I think not one of those who saw you today," he continued with a gesture that encompassed all the rangers and soldiers, "will consider you an enemy from now on. Herewith I grant you the right to live in Gondor freely!"

One of the soldiers drew his sword and started to bang it to his shield. More and more joined, the rangers, lacking shields, simply clapping their hands. Gurnak cheered up a bit.

"Thank you," he said without much enthusiasm.

"You do not sound too thrilled. Wasn't that exactly what you asked for originally?" Faramir asked.

"Yes it was, before I spoke to you. But you gave me new ideas and I embraced them. A village of orcs who think like me would have been nice and finding more of them would have been a task for life. Within Gondor, I suspect, I will always remain an alien to most, no permission of yours can change that."

* * *

"The second orc that killed itself, it was a woman, wasn't it?" one of the officers asked Gurnak while they walked back.

"Of course she was," a ranger replied instead. "You sound as if you have never seen a female orc."

"I haven't, at least not knowingly. But I admit that I did not look too closely so far. Dressed all in armour they are not so easy to spot."

"What did you expect them to wear? Dresses and make-up?" the ranger commented, answered by chuckles from his comrades. "A good deal of the orcs that fought on the Pelennor were female."

"That reminds me of an interesting detail, that you might possibly explain, Gurnak," Faramir added. "Rangers always knew how to discriminate orcs. For long years the raiding parties were all male. But then some years ago we encountered more and more female fighters. There have been various theories to explain that fact, but all more or less agreed that it was not a good sign. What can you tell us about that?"

"Well, in an orcish tribe the women are fighters like the men," Gurnak replied. "Chiefs are usually male, because they are typically stronger, though we have stories about female chieftains as well. Sauron did not care for our tradition, he wanted as many orcs as possible, which meant that for decades women were reduced to breeding. Then some day he decided: 'no more orclings'. Maybe he reckoned that he could not feed even more or he had already planned the end of the war and did not want any children that wouldn't reach fighting age by that time, I don't know. In any case while the children grew older, more and more of the women joined the ranks."

"I almost feel pity for them," commented the officer who had started the topic.


	11. What am I?

**What am I?**

"The steward!"

"Lord Faramir is coming to Eastwood!"

The news spread rapidly. Soon the village was bustling with excitement and all villagers gathered outside the northern gate to welcome the steward. Many of them were so awed by the appearance of the Lord of Ithilien, that they did not even notice the orc who was walking close behind. Beleg did notice him, of course, and he could hardly keep himself from rushing past the steward to embrace him.

"People of Eastwood," Faramir addressed the villagers, "this is Gurnak. Strange it may seem to you, but I am beyond doubt that he is as honest and peaceful as any of you. So I granted him the right to live in Gondor as a free man. Since he already has a friend in your village, he chose to live here. I know that many of you will not like it and I know why. As your lord a can not command your feelings, but nevertheless let me express my wish that if you respect my judgement, then you should give him a chance!"

There was silence. Some of the villagers smiled. Others looked like they would like to turn on their heels and walk away, though nobody dared to do that in the face of their lord. Most looked at the steward as if they expected him to say he was just joking.

Faramir signalled Gurnak to step forth and a moment later the orc embraced his friend. Meanwhile Athos advanced to stand next to the steward.

"One peaceful orc does not mean that all of them have changed," the steward went on, "and so my the rangers will keep on patrolling to protect you. One of them however has volunteered to remain with you for the time being. His task might be easy, or it might be much harder than his usual duty. I plead to everyone not to make it more difficult than necessary."

* * *

"Two more people in this house?" Beleg's mother asked with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. "Well, it should be possible."

Gurnak and Athos were standing in the living room of the house of Beleg's family. The place looked slightly crowded indeed.

"We had been two more when father was still alive," Beleg remarked.

"Yes, but you and Míri were a lot smaller then and we all were one family," his mother replied.

"I can just as well live in my tent or find another place," Athos intervened, then, looking at the orc, he added, "and Gurnak will be happy with a tent, too, I guess"

"No! That is out of the question," Beleg's mother cut him short. "You can surely find another place. People would be quarrelling on who has a right to host you. But I know you are not here to protect the village from Gurnak, but to protect him from false accusations. And Gurnak can not live in a tent in the middle of a village, if the people shall ever accept him as a civilised person."

Beleg, Gurnak and Athos looked at each other, while Míriel wore a smirk as if she had known it by herself and wondered why the men were so surprised.

"It won't be for too long anyway," Beleg finally said.

Everyone now looked at him.

"You wanted me to teach you how to work wood, didn't you," Beleg continued, looking at Gurnak, "why not learn it while building your own house."

"That would be great," his friend replied.

"Well, that's it then: We'll all move together for a while and you start building a house," Beleg's mother concluded. Then she shook hands with both Athos and Gurnak. "My name is Eliana, by the way."

* * *

Gurnak and Beleg were preparing some timber when a elderly, yet still agile man approached them.

"Hello, my name is Olchar," he introduced himself to Gurnak. "I've heard that you have lived on your own for years. You know how to hunt, don't you? I am the leader of the hunters of Eastwood and I wonder whether you'd like to join us."

"That would be great, wouldn't it," Beleg replied, looking at Gurnak.

"What about the house?" the orc replied less enthusiastically.

"It will get finished, it doesn't matter if it takes a day or two more. Haste makes waste, as we say. And you should find more friends, or at least people that respect you for what you do."

"Maybe you are right," Gurnak said to his friend, then asked Olchar: "Will the hunters really accept me?"

"I can not say that all are positively thrilled. But once you join the band, the will cooperate, I can assure you, and in the end you have to convince them by being a good hunter."

"Well then, I will join you. When do go out next time?"

"Tomorrow morning. We'll meet at the southern gate when the cocks crow."

* * *

The next day Gurnak returned in time for supper. When he entered the house, only Beleg and his mother were sitting at the table.

"Hello! Where are the other two?" he asked while sitting down.

"I don't know. Míriel is a big girl and I won't even dare to tell a ranger what to do," Eliana replied. The tone of her voice indicated that she did not approve their absence nevertheless. "How was the hunting?"

"We had to walk quite far to find anything worth hunting, but that was just the same on the edge of the mountains where I hunted on my own. Olchar said it was much better before the war, but Sauron's orcs have over-hunted the forests badly."

"And how did the others receive you?" Beleg asked.

"It was quite as Olchar said: Most were careful and uncommunicative, but nobody complained openly. Olchar told me how they work as a group and when we were on the track, I was just another member of the band. In the end they were impressed, not so much by might hunting skill, but because I carried home the big stag all on my own."

"So you will go out with them again?"

"Yes. It felt good be with a group of men that accepted me as a peer and also to work for my own food for a change."

"That's good to hear," Eliana said, "the more people know you personally, the better. But if you wanted to work for your food, you should have brought some here."

"Oh, I almost forgot it, there's a rabbit in my bag. I've shot it personally!"

* * *

A few days later Gurnak was planing wood while talking to Míriel, when a young man approached them.

"So that is the kind of man you prefer, my dear," he addressed Míriel, "strong and ugly?"

Gurnak look up, but before he even think of a reply, the girl shot back:

"I am not your dear, Telgor, and I never will be!"

"That is not an answer to my question, Miri," Telgor replied.

"Am I bound to give you one? Gurnak may be ugly as only an orc can be, but he is lot more interesting to talk to than you. Telgor, you're a moron. Get lost!"

Nobody noticed how Gurnak's face dropped when Míriel called him ugly. He said nothing, but looked away and concentrated on his work piece. Meanwhile Beleg, who must have heard the conversation, came around the corner.

"Oh, Telgor, how often does she have to reject you? How often do you want to make a fool of yourself, until you finally give up?"

"Ah, the big orc friend," Telgor replied, venom virtually dripping from his words, "you must like the situation. After all he is your 'friend'. Once I was your friend, too, but that is long gone."

"If you consider Gurnak to be your rival, you are blind anyway," Beleg added with a grin towards his sister, who blushed slightly.

"Oh, you have noticed me and Athos," she replied a lot softer and slower than usual.

"I wonder if that was why he volunteered," Beleg remarked while Telgor stormed off.

* * *

"So I am ugly," Gurnak grumbled when the were alone again, "ugly as only an orc can be!"

"Hey, I did not want to hurt you," Míriel replied taken aback, "I like you the way you are!"

"The other orcs say, I am not an orc, because I do not behave like one. But to humans I am but an orc, because I look like one. Who am I? What am I?"

"You are Gurnak, the most unique person I've ever met," Míriel proclaimed with a smile.

"Oh, well, maybe that is the best of an answer I will ever get," Gurnak sighed. "Is it true that you once were a friend to that guy, Beleg?"

"We were playmates. That is not the same, although children use the same word for it."

* * *

Gurnak's house was making good progress and it was almost finished, when an impressively garmented messenger rode into Eastwood and headed for him.

"You are Gurnak, I reckon. Is that so?" He addressed the orc in a boastful, though not unfriendly manner.

The appearance of the messenger had not passed unnoticed and so many villagers were now watching curiously. Gurnak first cringed from so much attention, but then he pulled himself up to his full height before he replied: "Yes, I am!"

In the meantime Beleg had passed the ring of spectators and placed himself next to his friend.

"And you are Beleg, correct?" the messenger now addressed him.

"Yes," Beleg replied, nodding.

The messenger looked to see whether anyone might object, then addressed the two friends: "The King wishes to meet you. If it suits you well, a guard of honour will accompany you to Minas Tirith next week."

The friends looked at each other, too surprised to answer at first. After a while Beleg finally turned towards the messenger again and replied: "We will be ready!"

* * *

Some days later the two friends were ushered into a private room at the royal palace, where they met the King and Queen. To their surprise the Queen inclined her head towards Gurnak most gracefully and addressed him.

"I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond. It was actually I who wanted to see you, Gurnak and I am delighted to meet you."

"I am honoured beyond imagination," the orc replied, copying her gesture as best he could.

"Would you care to tell me what you know about how orcs came into being?"

"We were told we have been created by a god named Melkor."

"Do not speak that name," the Queen interrupted him with a sharpness in her voice that totally contrasted with her behaviour so far. "He is Morgoth, the dark enemy!"

"Well, what did you expect Sauron to tell them?" the King intervened, softly touching his wife's hand.

"You are right, Estel," Arwen replied. "I guess I should simply tell the whole story myself. Then you, Gurnak, will understand me better and learn something about yourself."

"The world was created by Eru, the One and he was helped by beings called Ainur," the Queen began. "The Ainur were then sent to live within the world and form it. The most powerful ones are called the Valar. The Valar created many things and tried to make the world a most beautiful place. There was one amongst them however, who did not like the works of the others and who fancied destruction more than anything else. Some time the other Valar, growing weary of seeing their works destroyed, decided to settle on an island in the west and leave Middle Earth to the enemy.

Thus was the situation when the first elves awoke. They were strong and powerful and the land supported them, but they were guileless, too. Before long servants of the enemy detected them and caught some of them. The Valar knew that the elves were to come and after a while they found them, too. They then decided that it was time to act against the enemy. They waged war on him and finally bound him in chains. He was brought to the west were he remained a prisoner for three ages. The Valar then invited the elves to live with them in the west. Some went with them, others remained in Middle Earth. That, and why my ancestors came back, is a long story by itself; what matters now, however, is what became of those elves that were caught be the enemy.

Many of them were found and freed during the war. They bore the scars of torture, but overall they still looked like elves. What really appalled my ancestors though, was that they had lost all creativity and had turned aggressive and destructive instead. You must know that elves esteem creativity more than any other virtue. These pitiful creatures no longer found a fitting place among us, so in the end, with great sorrow, my ancestors chased away their own brethren."

The Queen took a deep breath. It was apparent that it was not easy for her to tell that story.

"So that is why you call him the dark enemy," Gurnak exclaimed. "But I do not yet see how this story connects to me."

"Oh, that name he got much later, in fact," Arwen replied. "And how you are concerned, you will soon see. Let me continue:"

"My ancestors went into the west and for a long time they lived there happily, their lost brethren they considered dead. The enemy was bound, but some of his servants still lived in Middle Earth, amongst them one whose name you know all too well: Sauron. For a long time he hid and Middle Earth had peace. But he must have recaptured those wretched elves and secretly bred them into an army. When he finally let them out to pester Middle Earth, they no longer looked like elves. Instead their bodily appearance had turned as hideous as their minds and it took quite some time until the elves recognised their former brethren. In the meantime they had been given a name, which is used for them still: orcs!"

When the Queen ended, there was a complete silence for a while. Everyone looked at Gurnak.

"So that is how we were _created_," he finally said, "it is rather that the enemy spoiled some elves to get us. Have you heard about a place called Utumno, by the way?"

"That was the name of the stronghold where those unfortunate elves were tortured," the Queen replied.

"Ah, that's it. Every orc knows Utumno as a mystical place of dread."

Beleg meanwhile got a wooden figurine from his pouch.

"But if this enemy has deprived orcs of all their creativity," he said, presenting the figurine to the Queen, "how could Gurnak have done this?"

Arwen reached out her hands and carefully took the wooden orc. Then she looked at her husband questioningly.

"The ranger did not mention it," the King said.

"The story of the tent already caught my attention," the Queen said. "More so than the peacefulness. This however is even better. To men, orcs are hardly more than nasty animals, but we elves never really forgot that they are of our own kind. When I heard your story, I wondered: Can it be, that after such a long some some orc recovered from Morgoth' corruption? I had to see it myself. How it happened, I do not know, maybe the destruction of Sauron played a role. Possibly only Eru himself could answer that question. I dare to say however, that by virtue of your personality, you, Gurnak, are an elf."

** The End **

* * *

A/N:

As much as I like Tolkien's stories, I never liked the idea of a race of sentient beings that are evil to the very core.

Some of you might have noticed that the orc chieftain was quoting a few lines from Goethe's _Faust_:

_Ich bin der Geist, der stets verneint!_

_Und das mit Recht; denn alles, was entsteht,_

_Ist wert, daß es zugrunde geht;_

_Drum besser wär's, daß nichts entstünde._

_So ist denn alles, was ihr Sünde,_

_Zerstörung, kurz, das Böse nennt,_

_Mein eigentliches Element._

(I am the spirit that always denies!

And rightly so; because all that originates,

Is worth, that it shall perish;

Hence better it were, nothing would originate.

So it is all that you call sin,

Destruction, or simply evil,

My actual element.)

While thinking about Melkor, how he behaved and what he might have done to turn elves into orcs, it occurred to me that this self-description of Mephisto fits quite well to him. This gave me the idea that orcs could use it as a kind of philosophy.


End file.
